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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28283325">Oh Tannenbaum</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinefromsherwood/pseuds/christinefromsherwood'>christinefromsherwood</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>December 2020 Gifts [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>James Bond (Craig movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Christmas, Domestic Fluff, Don't Judge Him, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Q is sleep deprived, don't do this at home either</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:07:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,669</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28283325</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinefromsherwood/pseuds/christinefromsherwood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Duncan was dead to begin with. </p><p>“Eve, I need help,” Q whispered into the phone. </p><p>“Yes. Yes, you do,” Eve growled back. “What the fuck, Q? It’s 3am.”</p><p>“Oh.” Q shot a look at his alarm clock and winced. “Is it?” It was. Shit.</p><p>“Yes.” There was a sound of rustling blankets. “Someone better be dead, Q.”</p><p>And didn’t that just hit the nail on the head. Because he was. Dead as a doornail.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James Bond/Q</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>December 2020 Gifts [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2071785</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>104</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Mi6 Cafe Prompt Fills</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Oh Tannenbaum</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/soufflegirl91/gifts">soufflegirl91</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>SOUFFLE!!!!! I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE THIS AND THAT YOU HAVE A LOVELY CHRISTMAS!!!!!!!! 🤗🤗</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Duncan was dead to begin with. </p><p>“Eve, I need help,” Q whispered into the phone. </p><p>“Yes. Yes, you do,” Eve growled back. “What the fuck, Q? It’s 3am.”</p><p>“Oh.” Q shot a look at his alarm clock and winced. “Is it?” It was. Shit.</p><p>“Yes.” There was a sound of rustling blankets. “Someone better be dead, Q.”</p><p>And didn’t that just hit the nail on the head. Because he was. Dead as a doornail.</p><p>“He <em> is</em>!” Q said in what probably wasn’t a wail, but it also wasn’t far from one.</p><p>“Oh <em> fuck- </em> Q?! Q! Are you OK? I hadn’t heard. Listen-”</p><p>“Oh no, shit, sorry. No!” Q sank onto the floor and grabbed his hair in despair. “James is fine. I think. It’s <em> Duncan </em>.”</p><p>Because James <em> was </em> fine, despite the fact that Q had missed the third fucking henchman who hid in the fucking blindspot. <em> Duncan </em> on the other hand...</p><p>There was a very long, impenetrable silence on the line. Then:</p><p>“Who <em> the fuck </em> is Duncan?”</p><p>And Q suddenly thought that as desperate as the situation had seemed mere minutes ago, perhaps it did not quite warrant a panicked early morning phone call. No matter how soon James could be expected back from this mission. Q’s choice of words also might have been somewhat unwise given their line of work. </p><p>Still, he had called Eve, and woken her up at 3am, and freaked her out, so he couldn’t very well say: <em> You know what, don’t worry about it. Let’s catch up later, </em>no matter how much he might have wanted to. And besides...</p><p>Q took a deep breath. </p><p>“Duncan is- Well, he <em> was </em> our Christmas tree.” He closed his eyes and listened to Eve’s breathing on the other end. </p><p>“I will kill you.”</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>“No, I will actually murder you. What the fuck, Q? You woke me up- You named your tree?! You-”</p><p>“Well, it was the first one James and I got together,” Q felt he needed to interject and justify. “And now he’s dead.”</p><p>“Of course, he is! It’s the middle of December. What did you expect?” </p><p>And now they were getting to the crux of the matter.</p><p>“Yeah, that’s what James said, too,” Q sighed.</p><p>Eve breathed out, long and slow. “No,” she said. Her voice was firm and unwavering. </p><p>“Please?”</p><p>“No, it’s my weekend off. I am not getting involved in whatever insanity you’re planning.” </p><p>Scoffing, Q shook his head at the unfairness of the insinuation. </p><p>“Listen, all I need is the helicopter.” </p><p>“You are insane.”</p><p>“No, Eve, you don’t understand. I swore up and down that the tree would survive until Christmas. We bet on it! I made a deal with the devil, and-”</p><p>“And you need to get over yourself, and admit to your boyfriend that he was right, and you were <em> wrong</em>. It will be good for you.”</p><p>“Eve, I will have to watch Poirot with him! At least four seasons!”</p><p>“See you Monday, Q!”</p><p>And thus he was abandoned. </p><p>Staring at Duncan's yellowed, dried-up needles, Q put aside his phone and focused on making a new plan. The one he had come up with after getting back from a 40-hour shift in Q-branch and finding poor Duncan ready to give up the ghost had <em> really </em> depended on Eve helping him with the helicopter.</p><p>After all, he couldn’t very well <em> drive </em>to Scotland and back before James was due to return from his mission. And Scotland was the only place where his research told him one could reliably find that particular type of a conifer. Duncan had been special and Q refused to contemplate running around London trying to find another like him. It would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack, and everyone knew that if you wanted a needle you needed to go buy a needlebook.</p><p>Q bit his lip and drummed his fingers on the floorboards. He needed sleep, but more importantly he needed a solution.</p><p>And then it occurred to him. The third possibility. Sometimes, when you wanted a needle and when you were very clever, you could simply make one. </p><p>Oh, Lady Macbeth was <em> not </em>going to like this. </p><hr/><p>Lady Macbeth was meowing unhappily from behind the bathroom door but Q refused to let her out until he was sure the paint fumes were all aired out. </p><p>He pulled his warm hat further over his ears and began twisting up the trash bag. His fingers felt stiffer than after a full workday of coding but the freezing air in the flat probably had something to do with that.</p><p>This was it, he was nearly there. All he needed to do now was take out the trash, close the windows and crank up the heater. James would never need to know. </p><p>Duncan stood before him quite resurrected--decorations twinkling with the reflection of the fairy lights, and most importantly: <em> green, all green</em>. It was a Christmas miracle.</p><p>Well, perhaps the spray-on colour did look a bit flat at certain angles. And there were a few places where Q’s hand had slipped and some green ended up on the bark of the trunk, but his subsequent careful placement of tinsel had resolved that issue more than satisfactorily. </p><p>With a small, pleased smile on his face, Q took out the trash, set their thermostat and went to take a nap. He had more than deserved it. </p><p>Q was awoken by an extremely loud and incredibly pitiful yowl. Then came the ding of keys against the keybowl and the muttering:</p><p>“--Christ! Q, what the-- a bloody sauna--”</p><p>Q felt his lips stretch into a sleepy smile. James was back! He froze when his brain caught up with him.</p><p>Duncan! </p><p>He’d <em> forgotten </em> Lady Macbeth in the bathroom! </p><p>James was back and Q had forgotten Lady Macbeth in the bathroom! </p><p>And he hadn’t turned down the heat! </p><p>What about the spray cans, did he throw them out? </p><p>Q leaped out of the bed and towards the living room. </p><p>No spray cans on the coffee table, no spray cans behind the TV...</p><p>James was at the thermostat; he was home safe and sound and there were no spray cans anywhere because Q had taken out the trash!</p><p>Beaming with happiness, Q folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Welcome home!” </p><p>James was frowning when he turned around, but his eyes were soft. </p><p>“Good morning,” he said with a nod towards Q’s rumpled clothes. “Did you have to stay on after I boarded?”</p><p>Q bit his lip and shrugged. “It was a long night.” Because it had been. It really had been. The kitchen clock showed 12 o'clock now.</p><p>“Go back to sleep then. I’ll be right there.” James turned back to the screen on the wall. </p><p>He was wearing that blue jumper Q had got him and he looked so soft. Q wanted to go and bury his face in the crook of his neck and nuzzle the lovely wool. But he couldn’t. Not yet anyway. There was the small matter of their cat wreaking havoc on their bathroom.</p><p>“Is this thing broken?” James asked suddenly as he squinted at the buttons. “Why is it so hot in here?” </p><p>“Er, no? I was just--” Q tried to think rapidly as he inched closer to the bathroom door, but his brain had once again remembered to be tired and refused to cooperate. “I was cold, and then I forgot about it.”</p><p>James turned to look at him; Q tried to put the hand which he was reaching for the bathroom door handle in his pocket. Only his boxer briefs didn’t have pockets.</p><p>Thankfully, James seemed not to have noticed his aborted gesture. Instead, he shook his head and went to put away his coat. </p><p>“It’s a wonder the tree is still alive in a sauna like this,” he called from the doorway. Q sensed an opportunity.  </p><p>He would yank open the door, release the cat and then quickly stash away any shreds of toilet paper Lady Macbeth had made in revenge. </p><p>“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about Duncan,” Q replied. “He’s indestructible!” </p><p>“Uh-huh,” came doubtfully from the hallway and Q did not appreciate that after all the effort he'd put in to make him so. Then the wardrobe door creaked open; Q seized his chance. </p><p>It might have been because of his lack of sleep that Q had failed to account for Lady Macbeth’s character; it might simply have been the inexcusable hubris all plotters suffer from when their plan has almost reached its fruition. </p><p>Q opened the door: Lady Macbeth shot out faster than a live round from a Walther PPK. She ran right between his legs, upsetting his balance and as Q fell to the floor, watching his cat barrage towards the Christmas tree he had spent the entire night painstakingly spray-painting so that he wouldn’t have to spend the holidays watching a mustachioed detective reveal increasingly convoluted plots in some knob’s library, he thought that he might have known this would happen.</p><p>“Q!” James was back in the living room in a flash, called by the loud thud of Q’s butt making contact with the floorboards. “Are you alright?” </p><p>No, Q wasn’t alright. Q was staring into the eyes of his cat, who was stretching out her paw, about to take revenge for her exile in the bathroom. </p><p>“Lady-”</p><p>She struck. One paw against one bauble and that was enough. </p><p>Dark green, slightly sticky needles rained down from the tree at the aggressor, who gave Q one last scornful look before darting under the sofa. </p><p>Duncan was dead. Again. </p><p>Dead and naked. The reflection of fairy lights twinkling happily amid the glass baubles, and the tinsel spread across its grey-green, bare branches seemed to only add insult to the injury.</p><p>“A long night, was it?” James asked as he bent to help Q off the floor. </p><p>“Very,” Q replied with a sheepish grin and shivered when James stroked one finger down his cheek. </p><p>It came away green. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>written for the MI6 Cafe prompt: "it's the fifteenth of December and our Christmas tree is dying already." "well YOU were the one who insisted on putting it up so early."</p></blockquote></div></div>
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